At what cost?
by 3lastigirl
Summary: Robert and Sophie arrive at the Florentine Conference... but what events will unfold?LangdonSophie with OC and a few old faces...
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own any of the _da Vinci Code _characters… though I wish I did**

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Morning broke somewhere over Greece. The dawn splendour washed over the sleeping face of Robert Langdon, sending pink-orange rays dancing over his burly features. The thin strands of grey that had started to appear over the past few months shimmered in the early morning light.

Travelling from Boston, Langdon had taken a large sleeping pill as soon as the Boeing 747 had become airborne. Sleeping, he found, was the best cure for claustrophobia. It was also the best way to keep his nerves at bay. The prospect of the reunion with Sophie had been plaguing his sleep and mind for the past week.

He'd had the unfortunate slip of tongue during a recent lecture of calling all of the female students that had answered questions 'Sophie'.

"The Mona Lisa appears larger on the left?" a brunette questioned, staring blankly at the blown-up image that flickered on the projector screen in Langdon's lab.

"Yes, Sophie. An undoubted symbolic reference to the Divine Feminine."

"Lana, not Sophie, sir"

Langdon apologised, his face flushed.

"And Mona Lisa is a reference to _Amon L'isa_, the name of _Isis_?" a redhead asked from 4 rows back.

"Correct- you are all catching on so well. Now, Sophie," he pointed to another brunette sitting inconspicuously at the side of the stage "I believe you have the answer to the outstanding question of 'Parallels between Isis and Horus and Mary and Jesus'."

"Adeline, sir." The girl replied

"You got a thing for a chick called 'Sophie', sir" a jock called from the back, his friends laughing.

Robert contemplated the question.

_Do I reply? If I do, it will be all over the Arts faculty before I know it. But it would explain all my Sophie references. Do I dare go for the sympathy vote? Surly the women will understand… maybe they will control the boys…_

He went for it.

"Yes, Mr Union, I do happen to have a 'thing' for a woman named 'Sophie'." Langdon stared the jock down, hoping he wasn't blushing too profusely.

The women sat up a little straighter, taking full interest.

"She hot?" the jock pressed

_Hot? Beautiful._

"She is… what you would call… classic beauty." Langdon replied, hoping that would end the conversation.

"Where'd you meet?" the jock pressed again, clearly having fun now.

"Paris."

The women sighed, turning to their neighbours and initiating giggly conversation.

"So she's French?"

"Yes, she is French. Back to the…"

"You have a Parisian girlfriend! That is so CUTE!" the brunette squealed. Her friends obviously agreed, as they too seemed to be looking at Langdon differently.

Langdon blushed. Cute… was that a good thing?

"Where in Paris? A café on the Champs Elyesee? The Eiffel tower?" the brunette asked, leaning dangerously forward off her lecture seat.

"Uh…the Grand Gallery of the Louvre, actually. Now the Mona-" Robert replied, wishing he hadn't initiated this conversation.

"NO WAY! Was it love at first sight?" she pressed, clearly having no regard for Langdon's growing discomfort on the topic.

"Not exactly. Now back to the Mona Lisa, please." He said in his most teacher like voice.

The girl cowered and sat back in her seat.

As the Sun rose further over the horizon, brilliant sunlight shone straight into Langdon's eyes, causing his pleasant dream to end in a blaze of dazzling fire before his tired, bloodshot eyes slowly fluttered open.

In the moments of disorientated bliss between waking and full consciousness, the smiling nymphish face of Sophie Neveu melted into the bubbly face of the American Airlines flight-hostess making the morning rounds of the front cabin.

"Good morning, sir." she chirped in a far too bubbly tone considering the hour. "Breakfast will be served shortly and we should be landing in about an hour and a half."

"Thank you" Langdon managed to mumble as he sat up fully, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to rid them of the early morning haze.

Casting his gaze around the cabin, Robert realised that he was the first to have been rudely awoken by the Mediterranean sun.

He scowled at the window.

"I knew I forgot to do something before I took that pill" he mumbled, searching for his boots underneath the seat in front.

Standing, he closed the shutter he had left open and cursed the business men who still slept soundly, their window shutters closed.

Shuffling towards the galley toilets, Robert gave himself the same lecture he always gave himself when faced with the impending situation.

_It's just a toilet. Perfectly safe. Everyone else uses them. They have all survived. No need to worry. Just wash your face. In and out. 2 minutes max._

Coming face to face with the cubical door, Robert took a deep breath and opened the door. Closing his eyes he crossed the threshold and let the concertina door snap behind him. Now trapped in the 2x1 meter cubical, Robert opened his eyes to his own reflection.

His hair was messed, eyes bloodshot and gummed in the corners, harsh stubble had formed around his chin as he had refused to shave before flying.

Sighing, he pushed the hot water lever down and watched as the mini-basin slowly filled with temperate swirling water. Splashing his face and wetting his hair, Langdon returned his gaze back to his reflection.

"What are you doing, Robert?" he asked himself. "14 years, cradle snatcher, 14 years."

He'd had this conversation many times before. Every time he had some up with an abstract reason why it was justified, even though at the back of his mind his conscience had been screaming for him to let Sophie go.

Staring into his own eyes, he searched for a reason why, how this relationship could ever be justified.

"Do you love her? Do you know what love is, Robert?"

His face still dripping, Langdon emerged from the toilets and walked curtly back to his seat.

Breakfast service had begun. A hostess with dark brown hair pulled back into an elegant ponytail roused the passengers politely from their sleep as a second followed two rows behind with the breakfast cart.

"Good morning, sir." She greeted Langdon in the same bubbly tone as the other hostess had.

"Good morning," Langdon adjusted his vision to read her name tag pinned on the left lapel of her navy jacket "Annette. Do you know the local time in Florence, by any chance?"

The hostess looked at the gold watch that hung from her left wrist. All flight attendants adjusted their watches to the local time of their destinations as soon as they are airborne, or -if they have the luxury of a dual time watch- in the crew briefing before takeoff.

"6:25 Florentine local time. We should land about 7:30; the runways are practically barren until 10." She smiled before moving on to the stout woman in front.

"Good morning, m'am"

"Coffee or tea?"

The second hostess had caught up. Gathering a coffee cup and placing an assortment of fruit and pastry in a basket, she didn't look at Robert until he answered.

Knowing that even though they offered tea, they didn't have any on the cart, Robert asked for coffee. White, no sugar.

Sophie had said her flight landed at 4pm.

"Either gates 24,5 or 6" she chirped, running around her Parisian apartment gathering clothes while balancing a cordless phone between her shoulder and her ear. "At least that's what the travel agent said. Air France is obligated to gates 24,5 and 6… or something like that. What time do you get in?"

Not knowing why he did it, Robert had lied and said that his flight was to land at 9:30pm.

Some time to figure out dinner plans…find a good restaurant…final adjustments.

"Don't eat the airplane food, though." Robert had scoffed

"Why? Air France food is usually quite good. Well, depending on the class. I went to Berlin once for a Crypto conference and the muffins were good, that was in business class though- DPCJ has certain standards when sending Agents abroad. But, another time on the way to London, I had this horrible excuse for beef Wellington." She had teased. "But it was English food."

"Yes, but if you land at 4- you will be just in time for the last lunch servings in Florence. Airplane fake ham, cheese and alfalfa sandwiches or pasta Neopolitna in Florence?"

"Aeroplane, Robert, Aeroplane." She giggled

Absently, Robert sipped his coffee and pulled his croissant apart as the first glimpse of the Italian Peninsula came into view.

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What will happen next... you'll find out when I update... when will that be?... maybe Thursday...

Omg!... not really, but yeah.

Read and review because it makes me feel special


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own any of the _da Vinci Code _characters… though I wish I did**

**Omg- I am sorry this chapter took sooooooo long to upload. I work on a Windows 1890 laptop (Pentium 0.5) with a floppy drive you have to actually plug in, so anyway my floppy drive decided that "hey, i'll save every chapter! Except chapter 2, i'll encode that so it cant be uploaded because I am an eval peripheral!"**

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Sitting in the back of a small Fiat taxi, Robert looked idly out the window at the renaissance buildings that lined the small cobblestone streets of Florence. 

Questions and plans whizzed around his groggy mind as he tried to adjust to the early morning sunlight shining directly into his eyes.  
The taxi driver mumbled in rapid Italian. Langdon assumed it was about the traffic, or how little Italian he spoke.

It's been a month. He told himself, rubbing his tired eyes. A whole month. She had probably moved on, gotten herself a 'hunky' Parisian boyfriend and left me a message with the concierge saying "Sorry, Robert, I couldn't get the time off work. We've just got a major case and I can't get away. Will call soon, Sophie." Which is code for 'I don't like you like that- let's stay just friends.'

Pulling up in front of the Brunelleschi, Langdon thanked and payed the cabby before emerged from the cramped back seat and took his duffel from the squashy boot. Walking into the opulent foyer, Robert was instantly reminded of the similar architecture of the Vatican and his now hazy adventure across Rome a year before.

Vittoria would have loved this place.

"Morning" Robert said in his chirpiest voice he could muster for the hour as he approached the reception desk. An Italian woman sat elegantly behind a LCD computer screen sipping an espresso. Her dark curly hair had been pulled back into a functional French roll, her Olive skin had an entirely fake matte finish that made her look like an Italian Receptionist Barbie doll.  
"Morning," she replied in accented English "Name and passport, grazie"  
Interpol.  
"Robert Langdon" he said, rummaging through his brief-case for his passport "It says here that you are to have a partner…" she said as her long acrylic nails tapped rapidly over the keyboard "Yes, she is not coming until this afternoon. Late flight. Do I have any messages." He replied as he handed over his American passport.  
"Uh…no, no messages Signor Langdon. Would you like any special arrangements made before your guest arrives?" the woman's eyes bored into Langdon playfully. She was obviously seasoned in this area.

No messages… that's a good sign I suppose. Special arrangements…wine, maybe…dinner? Nothing too fancy, you don't want to seem too forward… or do you?

"Could your concierge possibly arrange a dinner table for 2 at… the best restaurant in Florence at 8?" Langdon replied, blushing slightly.  
"Certainly, sir." The woman smiled "Room 107, 6th floor. Enjoy your stay."

Langdon strode over to the lift, pushing the up button and taking a deep breath in.  
The lift pinged, doors opened. Robert closed his eyes and strode in. Hitting the 6 button, he closed his eyes again and counted to 10.  
Another ping.

The 6th floor corridor was deserted. Soft music floated from somewhere. Slow, calming music.  
"103, 105… 107" Robert counted before slotting his credit card sized key into the automated lock.  
Pushing the heavy door open, Langdon sighed in relief as he threw his duffel into the middle of the room and fell onto the King sized bed.  
Lying still for 5 minutes, Langdon let the weight of his jetlag smother him as the sunshine bored into the room through the large plate glass windows.  
Then, it suddenly hit him.  
"SHIT!" he cried, sitting up before scrambling into the middle of the bed. Ripping off the duvet and sheets, Langdon pushed his hand into the middle of the bed, praying to find a crevasse. Most hotels didn't own King sized beds, they simply pushed two Queen sized beds together then secured them together with what looked to be an industrial sized elastic band that fitted neatly around the perimeter. Most guests never knew the difference.  
Finding no gap in the middle of the bed, Langdon swore again, holding his head in his hands.

So much for no pressure, Robert. What is she going to think when she walks in here?

"We will be landing in Florence in approximately 15 minutes. Please stow all tray tables and television sets. Having your seat in an upright position is essential during takeoff and landing. Thank you"

Sophie Neveu wasn't listening. Staring out of the elliptical porthole at the miniature Florence that spread as far as she could see, her stomach was doing back flips.

What if he doesn't like me like that anymore? What if he finds me dull? What if he has met someone else…?

As the aeroplane taxied toward the international terminal, Sophie couldn't ebb the sense of apprehension that had suddenly made her feel nauseated.

You'll be fine, Sophie. Just take it slow, find out if he has feelings first. God, what if he just wants to be friends!

Taking her suitcase from the luggage carousel, Sophie sensed she was being watched. The paranoid feeling hadn't left her since she had returned to Paris after an extended stay with her Grandmother and Brother in Scotland.  
Shrugging it off, she retracted the handle of the suitcase and walked towards the taxi stand.

Probably just a Priory member keeping an eye on me. I wish they wouldn't, I can take care of myself.

"Afternoon, Princess" an American accent whispered in her ear.  
Sophie tensed up, stopping dead. Her heart beat faster

_Shit! I've been found! But, who knows! _

A strong hand cupped her around the shoulder and pulled her into their strong figure.  
"Sophie, you're shaking" the voice said softly. It sounded familiar.  
She tentativly looked up, not aware her entire body was shaking uncontrollably. Robert Langdon's features had hardened into a concerned expression, but a playful glimmer still shone out of his deep blue eyes.  
Feeling a right fool, Sophie felt her face explode into a red blush as she hung her head and let out a soft but shaky laugh.

"I'm sorry, I should'nt have done that" Robert appologised  
"You said you didnt get in until 9:30" she smiled, returning her gaze to his before hugging him around him middle  
"White lie. I had some... final arrangements to finalise" he replied playfully, twisting a lock of her hair between his fingers.  
"Really" she leered, raising her head from his cheast  
"Really" he said, taking Sophie's suitcase in one hand, her hand in the other.

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OMGWTF! The ruddy floppy drive saved half of chapter 2 and half of chapter 3 and smushed them together so I had to type out from "afternoon princess" from my laptop to my PC. Dood I need an I book! Or a laptop that actually has a USB drive! 


	3. Chapter 3

"So, when does the conference start?" Sophie asked. Her face was bathed in soft candlelight, throwing playful darkness over sections as she moved in her seat.  
The concierge had hit the jackpot booking a table in this restaurant. It was quiet enough to be private, but not so much as to feel as though either one of them was pinned in a corner by the other.  
Robert placed his piccolo coffee cup back on it saucer, and returned his gaze to Sophie.  
"Well, it technically started yesterday- but I am not lecturing until tomorrow and then again on Thursday"  
"So we have a day in between to look around. I've heard there is a beautiful museum just"  
Robert cut her off "No museums, no churches, no tombs, no art and no relics- remember, Ms Neveu"  
Sophie smiled, reassured that Robert still harboured some feelings for her.  
"Would you like to come to the lecture?" Robert asked, looking into the now cold coffee "because, technically you are a VIP guest"  
"Because of my heritage?" Sophie joked.  
"No, although if they did know I'm sure they would worship you. But because you are here with me…" Robert stopped and looked at Sophie for signs of pressure or uncomfort. Seeing none, he proceeded "Well you are on the guest list. Front row seats, just like all the partners of other speakers"  
She smiled.  
"What, pray tell, is your lecture's subject? 'How to escape France while being pursued by DPCJ'?" Robert laughed.  
"Unfortunately, no. Just the standard 'Former Religious Icons that have been demonised/adopted by the Catholic Church.' I don't know how many times I've given it. Actually, it's the same lecture I gave that fateful night in Paris a month ago"  
A hint of sadness played across Sophie's face. A prang of guilt hit Robert square in the gut.  
Damn, I shouldn't have brought that particular fun fact up.  
Sophie sat silent; gazing off over Robert's left shoulder as if remembering a distant memory.  
"I'd love to come." She said finally "maybe I could find out some dirty little secrets from your colleagues"  
Robert smirked.

Strolling towards the lecture hall, Robert felt queasy- just like he did before every lecture he gave, but even more so now because Sophie was tightly holding his hand.  
"Are you lecturing first?" Sophie asked, her shoulder length burgundy hair bobbing in time with her stride, the midmorning light highlighting the red facets that subtly streaked her mane.  
"Second, actually. And I must warn you, there is a meet and greet before we start. I'll try and find someone that isn't a total bore for you and me to talk to for half an hour." Robert said, remembering the many functions he had been to where he had been delegated a depressingly boring chat partner by his friends that had been smart enough to pass them off before they stated to waffle on about their chosen topic.

As the oak doors of the hall loomed, Robert swallowed hard and held his head high. Sophie, who seemed to have noticed his nerves, squeezed his hand harder and pulled him over the threshold. The foyer was plain and deserted. A single sign stood in the centre of the oval vestibule. It read 'Symbols in Religion seminar .  
"No Italian translation?" Sophie queried "No, never. It's just the organisers' way of pouring vinegar on a wound that has already had salt rubbed into it." Robert sighed, not partial to the politics of the organisers' agenda.  
Sophie looked confused.  
"Not only are we having a conference on how the Church has used other religions' symbols in Italy, the epicentre of Christianity- but we, they, refuse to have anything in Italian. Apparently the folks running the show are still living by the 'lingua pura' gospel." Robert explained as he led Sophie to the low drone of distant voices.

Coming to the end of a long carpeted corridor, Robert pushed the lecture hall door open. The hall was reminiscent of the Globe Theatre in London. A semi circle stage surrounded on all three sides by seating. The lighting was dim, casting long shadows and pockets of darkness the theatre. Men in black apparel ran across the distant stage, clip boards flaying dangerously as they yelled into their headsets in rapid Italian.  
Somewhere above, a technical manager was testing graphics. Blown up pictures of pentagrams, crosses, crucifixes, the rose line, pagan gods flicked in rapid succession as if the man at the helm was having an epileptic seizure, pushing the 'next' key. The symbols melted into the head shots of the lectures. "George Ammath, Cordelia Barber, Henry Dennis, Andrew Gawls, Rosaline Hawthorne, Jean Innox, Matthew Lang, Robert Langdon, Sheila O'Malley, René Xios." Sophie read in quick succession as the headshots whizzed passed.  
"What did you say?" Robert said. He hadn't been watching the large projector screen positioned behind the lecturer stand.  
"I was reading the names" Sophie pointed, the headshots had turned into video clips that had been put of ultra-fast forward.  
Robert considered the thought whirring in his mind.

Surely I didn't hear that name. Impossible.

Balding heads were bent in together in deep conversation; no one had noticed Robert and Sophie enter. All accept the painfully cheerful self appointed secretary. She heartily waved from behind a card table covered with name tags. A large freestanding lamp hung limply over her right shoulder, giving her a strange ethereal aura.  
Sophie smiled at Robert as he waved weakly back and started towards the table.  
"Morning, Robert" the woman gushed. Sitting on a fold-up chair, Glynda Prosselthwaite wore a cable knit pullover and long floral skirt that fell to just above her ankles, showing her tan coloured acrylic sneakers and dark navy socks. Her grey hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, fastened with a large butterfly clasp. She looked like a jovial Mrs Clause posing as a Librarian.  
"Glynda, how are you?" Robert replied, searching for his name on the table, while looking for the name he thought he had heard.  
"Oh, much better than I was last time you saw me, Robert. Remember I had… Hello, who might you be?" Glynda had noticed Sophie standing next to Robert, smiling fondly.  
"Oh, how rude of me. Sophie Neveu." Sophie extended he had over the table. Glynda looked stunned as she weakly shook Sophie's hand.  
"I had heard that you were bringing someone, Robert" Glynda said as she looked at Sophie, as though she had met her before, but couldn't quite place her.  
"You look so familiar" Glynda said, squinting her eyes, apparently trying to remember where she had seen Sophie. Her eyes suddenly shot open. "Not Agent Sophie Neveu of the DPCJ"  
Sophie cringed. Robert hung his head.  
"One and the same." She said in a fake cheerful kind of way.  
Glynda smiled broadly, while pulling a blank name tag from under the card table.  
"Wonderful to meet you, Ms Neveu. I hope you enjoy the lectures." She handed Sophie the name tag.  
"Yours is next to Matthew Lang, Robert"  
Robert blushed; he had totally forgotten how Glynda had always alphabetised the name tags for easy pick up.

After pinning their tags on their shirts, Robert and Sophie started into the main part of the hall where the rest of the people seemed to be huddling.

There was a sudden shrill and a blue blur came running towards Robert, grasping him firmly around the waist. 


End file.
